


Demonstrated Smiles

by fingersntoes



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Gen, Psychology
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-29
Updated: 2013-05-29
Packaged: 2017-12-12 22:50:16
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/816978
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fingersntoes/pseuds/fingersntoes
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>“You need to stop cheating death, Peter.”</p><p>He let the air in his lungs release, something he’d hardly realized he’d been holding in as he glanced down a moment before looking back to her again. The smile that passed his features was something slow and practiced; something he’d demonstrated for himself time and time again until he believed it was real.</p><p>They both knew better.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Demonstrated Smiles

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Hsuany](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Hsuany/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Amends](https://archiveofourown.org/works/633727) by [AuntieClimactic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/AuntieClimactic/pseuds/AuntieClimactic). 



> Hsuany: WRITE ME A PETERSTILES FIC! DO IT DO IT!  
> Me: ff me? lol. it'll involve therapy if I start tonight/tomorrow  
> Hsuany: yessssssssss.

_To the top of all the world_  
To the tasteless underworld  
To the center of your heart,  
To the  demonstrated smile  
To the lonely love child  
Destination desolation, tell me when you reach the **brink of life**.

Imagine Dragons - [Selene](http://www.azlyrics.com/lyrics/imaginedragons/selene.html)  


 

Peter’s apartment is small and neat. Longer than it is wide it possess a total of four rooms and two storage rooms that sit mostly empty. The living room combines in the kitchen, a barrier of carpet and tile to set them apart. The collection of windows on the east side of his apartment makes it glow in the early morning light. It’s nearly September, and he wonders how close they are to the equinox. Setting a saucepan over the front burner of his stove, Peter moves to the freezer to pull out a metal bowl filled with berries he’s chosen to chill overnight. He’s careful about what he puts into his body anymore, the bitter taste of mortality still filling his mouth with ash.

Pouring the berries into the sauce pan he then adds a half cup of water before turning the burner on. When the water starts to simmer he picks up a wooden spoon to crush the berries slowly, allowing them thicken before his eyes glance to the clock. He has an appointment this morning and he knows he can’t be late. He moves his saucepan from the burner and picks up a skillet before dressing his toast in almond butter. The French toast is the fast part though, and once it’s completed he cuts it diagonally across, placing it on a plate he’s set on the counter top beside the stove. The fresh jelly adds a different flavor to it and he eats in quiet, the exception of the birds chirping just outside the kitchen window.

The mundane routine of showering and dressing come with the price of a gut wrenching sense of nervousness. They’re going to talk about Beacon Hills today, she’d told him last week in order for him to prepare, to steel himself. He tells himself he’s not ready as he adjusts his watch over his wrist. It doesn't work anymore, but it belonged to his wife’s father. It’s the only thing he has that survived the fire anymore. It’s eight o’clock when he pulls into the cottage driveway. Stepping out of the car, Peter looks composed and calm as he slides his hands into his pockets. He’s wearing dark grey slacks and a pale blue button down. He chose to leave the tie in his car, his value of formality being unable to trifle the impending fear of one more thing causing him to choke this morning.  
Stepping onto the front porch, he can appreciate the mahogany finish over the weather tested door, somewhere behind the cottage he can hear the sound of crashing waves, the salt teasing at his senses in the way it always does when he comes here. Doctor Stone lets him come to her home instead of her office this time, he appreciates it the way he appreciates all beautiful things – aesthetic or simple gestures – he needs the sense of peace if they’re going to do this.

“Come in, Peter.”

He stares down at the nickel finished handle and lets his eyes fall shut. Sometimes he’s happy that she’s a werewolf as well, that she knows when his senses spike, that she knows what he means when he explains how angry he really is. Other times, he wishes she would let him knock, wishes she would open the door instead of making him walk through it on his own. Curling his fingers around door knob he curls his thumb over the handle to push it open as he steps inside.

He’s been here before, already taken with the heart-pine floors, the honey-hued shine and the way it carries up the banister of the stairs in the entry way. The trim is off-white and the walls only show the slightest hint in color to not take away from the lush plant life she’s placed in the entryway that climb the wall near the coat closet to his left. Just off the foyer is the study, it has a sense of masculinity to it with its stained paneling and built in book cases. He stares at the empty leather chairs gathered in front of the dormant fireplace, but he knows that isn't where they’re meeting this morning.

Down the hall he can see Doctor Stone lifting a large glass vase from the coffee table and setting it aside to clear the view from the couch through the French doors that lead to the wraparound porch, looking over the Chesapeake Bay. He walks through the craftsman style columns and nods his head to her as she turns and smiles to him.

“Sit down, Peter.. Would you like some coffee?” She’s a charming woman, her and her husband both.

“Not today, I don’t think.” He gives her a smile as he walks around to the open doors overlooking the porch and watches the way the light plays on the water while she finishes settling and sits herself down.  
“Do you remember what we’re here to talk about today?”

Her tone changes and it causes his head to bow down before he looks to her and nods, sitting down in an armchair, his back to the water while he takes her in. “We are here to talk about Beacon Hills, my family, the fire – Inevitably Kate Argent and what I did to her.”

She doesn't say anything at first; she’s clever like that in knowing better than to lead the conversation or to lead his thoughts in general. They sit in silence as he draws his palms over the arms of his chair. His thumb brushes the top of it to the left side, the faintest breeze coming up behind him as he lets the quiet thicken. “I’m not ready to go back, Maria.” The admittance is unequivocal as he stares her down the way they do to one another from time to time. “I’m still angry at him for letting her into our home; I’m still angry at him for being so puerile and for what it cost our family.”  


“Peter, Derek was a seventeen year old boy.”

His jaw tightened as his eyes bore down on her, flashing – if only for moment, something dangerous. She didn’t blink, she never did. Maria had known his wife years ago; she’d seen him at his best the same way she’d seen him at his worse, save for the incident in Beacon Hills following his return to the world of the living. She raised one of her legs and crossed it over the other, leaning back in her chair as she copied his pose by sliding her arms back over the arms. “He was a seventeen year old boy who fell in love with the wrong girl, a mistake in judgment that left him orphaned. Are you sure you’re focusing your anger in the right place?”

“What other place is there to focus it?” he replied without hesitation. “I’ve already dealt with Kate as well as Gerard, Chris and his daughter aren’t my concern.”  


He watched the way her mouth curled ever so slightly in the corner, the faintest indication of a smile and he felt his chest tighten all over again. “You’re running out of family, Peter Hale, and you’re unhappy, whether you’re willing to admit it to yourself or not.”

Peter let his lungs fill with air, the salt was almost palatable. Glancing down at the space between them he listened to her continue. He knew she was right, but it wasn’t going to do either of them any good to discuss the validation of truths in words. He’d left Beacon Hills shortly after the ordeal with the Alpha Pack had been sorted, when he’d felt the rage boil in his throat like bile at every word that passed through Derek’s lips. They’d been talking ever since he’d moved to Virginia. They’d been talking every day on Saturday morning for nearly fifteen years now.  


“I want you to go back to Beacon Hills and spend some time with Derek, talk to him.”

Tensing his jaw, Peter could feel his fangs descending as he gripped down against the fabric of the chair. They stared at one another in silence for a long moment before she continued, effectively adding insult to injury.

“Gloria Steinmen told us that the truth will set us free, Peter – But first it will piss you off.” She stood up then and placed her hands over her hips. “You watched your family and your home go up in flames set by a twenty year old girl who seduced your nephew. You spent years in a coma after the fire, your body desperately trying to heal itself but unable to do so until you were able to kill your niece and take the position of Alpha. You tried to kill your nephew too, anything that was going to stand in the way of taking your revenge and it cost you your life. By chance you were brought back again.” She paused, and for a moment Peter wondered if it was more for affect than necessity.

“You need to stop cheating death, Peter.”

He let the air in his lungs release, something he’d hardly realized he’d been holding in as he glanced down a moment before looking back to her again. The smile that passed his features was something slow and practiced; something he’d demonstrated for himself time and time again until he believed it was real.

They both knew better.  


* * *

Stepping into his apartment, he set his keys down on the table positioned behind the couch. He stared at his living room and kitchen, the numbness from his appointment still sunk into his skin.  
I want you to go back.

Her words played in his head, the repetition bringing him no comfort as he unbuttoned his shirt and walked into the bedroom to dress down. Hanging his shirt and slacks up, he stood naked in the center of his room and considered his options. A large part of him knew he should go into his office to start moving preparations but the rest of him wasn’t ready to go through with it. She was asking him to step backwards; he decided as he drew back the sheets of his bed and laid himself down on his back. With one hand tucked behind his head and the other over the flat of his stomach he licked between his lips, eyes intently focused on the ceiling.

Being away from Derek and being away from Beacon Hills had allowed him to return to some sort of normalcy, some half life that had given him comfort in its own way. Was that cheating death? He rolled his eyes and let them fall shut. There was no sense in annoying himself about it. He wasn’t cheating death. He was simply seeing how long it took it to catch up.

Over the next week he’d consolidated his assets in Virginia. A collection of the furniture was to be sold; he used the money to have a shipment of boxes sent to him so he could begin meticulously packing. The rest of the money went to the purchase of his plane ticket and hiring a moving company to bring the rest of his belongings back to California. Each box was labeled and sealed shut, the moving company would be there by the end of the week and he felt a mild sense of relief in the completion of the task. The next step however still had his stomach twisting into unfathomable knots.

He laid on top of the blanket and pillow that he’d left out and tried to sleep, imagining the image of Derek’s face, of the remnants of their family home, of his past. In that moment, he’d have given anything to sleep to make it stop. However, what Peter came to appreciate on that last night in Virginia was that sometimes sleeping only made things worse.

* * *

_Just a picture on your wall_  
That's nice, what a metaphoric fall  
Typically, I was a validation on your sleeve  
Oh what an indication  
To the  center of the pain  
Through your tattered window pane  
To the middle of your heart.

 

Vaguely, he could hear Derek and Laura arguing with one another over who would take the bathroom first. Yawning deeply he stretched out on his back and the shift of weight brought Sarah’s head to draw over his shoulder as her arm lazily slid over his stomach. Their sheets were half thrown to the floor from their lovemaking the night before. Wind cause the sheers to billow in the wind from their opened window and he fought with himself to sleep, drifting in and out for the better part of an hour before he finally heard the door slam shut indicating that the kids had left for school. 

“Hey you.” 

Her words cause him to smile, even if he refused to open his eyes just yet. “I’m not awake,” he explained as he parted his eyes just enough to see Sarah staring up him with a painted grin. “Not yet at least.” She sat up and he watched the way her hair fell over her shoulders and curled around her face, pulling himself up he used his palm to keep him upright as he raised both of his eyebrows as if to question her motives for moving so quickly after waking. 

“You’re making me breakfast.” She informed him with a fond smile causing him to laugh as he nodded and pressed his lips to her own gently before he slid out of bed. “Well. Now that you have informed me.. I suppose I better get to that.” He walked across the room to pull on a pair of sweat pants as he moved to the door. A final glance back to the bed allowed him a final look at her grin before she laid back down, pulling his pillow to her chest while she tried to sleep rest a few minutes longer. 

Samantha and Kelly came running past him as stepped out into the hall causing him to rear back. “Whoa – Slow down you two!” He called after them as he pulled his t-shirt on over his head and shook his head.

Matty and Seth were playing in the den with Marissa. All together, there were four families in the pack and seven kids. Peter and Sarah were expecting their first child soon and he was more than a little excited at the way her stomach had begun to swell with the new life she was carrying. His brother Jason had married Talia, their two kids Derek and Laura were the oldest. Mark, Talia’s brother was married to Jean; together the two of them had three kids, Seth, Marissa and Samantha. Peter found himself feeling a little worse for Seth each day as his sisters became more and more chatty. Linda, Sarah’s sister was married to Geoffrey, their two kids were Matty and Kelly, the second oldest.

Over the years the pack had gotten so much stronger as the children grew older and learned more control. There was something oddly calming about having such a full house. The kids ranged in ages of 18 to 2, and with any one of the adults constantly on watch they all felt relatively safe in the reserve. Padding his feet down the stairs it was Kelly who ran too slow past him the second time bringing his large hands down around her sides to lift her up into the air as she squealed in laughter and whined for him to let her go. 

“Not this time, munchkin. I need a kitchen minion if this breakfast is going to get made.” 

He set her down once they were in the kitchen and pointed down at her, “Strawberries and yogurt! Aunt Sarah is a very demanding woman.” The smile he gave her was a gentle one as he moved over to the coffee machine to fix himself a cup while Kelly put the strawberries down and then went back for the yogurt. 

“Child Labor?” Linda came around the corner holding a cup of tea close to her chest. Peter couldn’t help but chuckle as he looked down at Kelly trying not to let the tub of plain yogurt fall off the counter top. His hand came down to help give it the final push. Kelly was five and looked exactly like her mother. Linda had always been a quirky girl and the grilling he’d gotten from her when he’d first taken interest in Sarah had been enough to have him reconsidering the attachments of their families. In the end, he was glad he’d gotten over the stint. 

Moving over he leaned his head in a little to brush his lips over Linda’s cheek. “Good morning to you too,” he said before walking off to get the milk from the refrigerator continuing only once he was adding it to his coffee, “and I like to think of it as Child _assistant_ rather than laborer.” 

Linda rolled her eyes put her hand along the back of Kelly’s head, “Go play with your cousins.” She spoke to her in a kind voice and when Kelly looked over to Peter for final approval he poked his tongue out at her and sent her running off to the other room to play. Linda was human, the same as Sarah whereas her husband was not. In the end, both Kelly and Matthew turned out to be human as well with dark hair like their mothers. It was all fascinating for Peter to think about while he watched Sarah’s belly grow. In the end though, he knew that whether their child turned out to be human or not he was thrilled at the prospect of being a father. Peter pulled down two large bowls and set them on the counter top while Linda sat on the stool across from him against the island. 

“How is the Princess sleeping?” She couldn’t help but grin as she said it and Peter found himself forced to stop himself from laughing as he pulled down the granola to put down a base in each bowl. “She’s sleeping very well..Not everyone can be as graceful as you were.” The knowing smile that swept her expression left them both quiet while Peter proceeded to put yogurt down over the granola. 

“Yeah, Linda.” Sarah said as she came into the room wearing one of Peter’s button down shirts and a set of heather grey shorts as she leaned in against her sisters back. “You slept for ... What was it? 7 months out of your pregnancy?” 

“Oh please.” Linda rolled her eyes as she let herself be pulled back into the embrace by her sister while Peter set them two breakfast bowls in front of them along with a spiced jar of honey. 

“Eat, you two.”

* * *

“Everyone in the basement **now**!” 

Peter dropped the glass in his hand down into the sink as he turned around to see a young woman holding Kelly up by the collar of her shirt while Sarah rushed around to his side and Linda screamed. Sarah pulled Linda to her as she began to cry, “Ple.. please don’t hurt her..!” 

The woman stood with a gun at her side and a large taser in her palm. Kelly cried and tried to reach for her mother’s arms. Peter felt his fangs starting to pull. “.. We’ll get in the basement.. Just please let her go.” His throat felt strained as he attempted to cohere her in a calm tone to release his niece. Just past her, he could see two other men shoving at Talia and Jason, while the house filled with wale’s of frightened children. 

“Oh you’re good.” She said with a smirk, drawing Peter’s attention back to her. “You’re almost as good as your nephew.” 

The comment felt like a blow to the stomach as he watched the woman release the Kelly and throw her forward. Peter caught her and quickly sent her to the side to grab hold of her mother’s legs while he stood in front, keeping Sarah and Linda from sight as best he could. How had they gotten into the house? How had they not been detected? His mind raced with questions as he listened to the distant sounds of the adults trying to calm the children in the depths of the basement, their voices becoming clouded. 

“Please, there are humans in this house.” Peter urged as he glanced to Sarah and Linda, motioning with his head toward the basement, his eyes snapping back to Kate. “You don’t want to murder them... You can have me, you can have my brothers.” 

He struggled to keep his eyes from flashing their ominous glow as she smiled to him, something innately cruel as he was ready to lunge in attack. Two other men come and join her at her back flanks and he found himself frozen. “They’re secured – Just these three left.” 

And that’s when it registered with him how they’d gotten in the house. They were all wearing Derek’s shirts, embedded with his scent. He saw her beauty as she glanced to the side at her men. Derek would have been no match for it all. His good natured nephew, a slave to puberty. The twisting of fear settled heavy in his gut as the three of them took a step forward and Peter finally felt Sarah’s hand curl around his fingers in a silent plea for him to come with them. 

He turned only once on the steps of the basement, that cruel smile being embedded in his memory as he pulled Sarah to his chest once they were all locked in the chilled chamber. The children sobbed against their parents while Jason and Talia huddled together fearing for their own children, he surmised. Sarah curled her fingers in against his chest and sides, but she didn’t cry, she merely trembled against him. Peter drew a hand against her cheek bringing her eyes up to his own. “Hey you...” He said quietly while he tried to conceal his own fear as his eyes glossed over with tears he tried to prevent from falling. “Don’t think I got a chance to tell you I love you this morning.” 

She laughed something hollow and emotion riddled as a few tears streaked he cheek and caught along the line of his thumb. They pressed their brows together as he felt his mind race, his disjointed thoughts falling blank as the smell of smoke began to fill the air, seeping through the floor boards and through their screams.

* * *

Peter woke up with a growl lodged in his throat as he panted heavily. His eyes frantically looked for something familiar, for anything really. The collection of confused faces left his stomach feeling hollow as the stewardess passed down the lane beside him. He brought a hand to his forehead and let his head fall back once more. 

“This is your pilot speaking and we’ll be landing shortly.” 

The sound trailed off and Peter took a long and practiced breath as he held his eyes shut once more trying to calm himself. The closer he drew back to Beacon Hills, the more he could feel the heat on his skin and the ash in his mouth. 

In the end, he’s not sure if it was the fire that caused his ears to bleed or if it was the screams.

**Author's Note:**

> Photo Credits:  
> [Coastal Living](http://www.coastalliving.com/)  
> [Kitchen Daily](http://www.kitchendaily.com/)  
> [Food Gawker](http://foodgawker.com/)
> 
> Inspirational Credit:  
> [My Tumblr](http://reddrabbits.tumblr.com/archive)


End file.
